Fan the Flame
by lizook
Summary: Not that she'd really had a choice. It was that or a kevlar vest, which, while they could be oddly flattering, didn't really present a professional image to the boss


**Spoilers/Timeline**: None/Set in the future

**A/N**: Many thanks to **bloodwrites** for, again, humoring me and providing fab feedback.

**Disclaimer**: The Mentalist doesn't belong to me; Title taken from Dierks Bentley's _Feel that Fire_.

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><p>Leaning against the wall, she pushed the too long sleeves of her shirt up under the cuffs of her blazer as the elevator started to rise.<p>

_Her_ shirt.

She rolled her eyes, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead and inhaling slowly.

His scent washed over her, momentarily distracting her from the way her boss' eyes had narrowed at the haphazardly buttoned shirt, the way it gaped at the collar. She could almost hear the "we agreed as long as you kept it out of the office..." as she'd started outlining the problems she'd discovered while finishing the latest department budget.

Damn Rigsby for spilling half a bowl of Jell-o on her.

Even if hadn't become an uncomfortable mess, her meeting with Bertram couldn't be rescheduled and tossing one of Jane's shirts on under her blazer had been the best option.

At least it had seemed like it at the time. She wasn't so sure after the awkward pauses that had riddled the entire ninety minutes she'd spent in Bertram's office. He hadn't said anything though and, really, it wasn't like their meetings _ever _went smoothly. She was forever defending her team or arguing for better resources. The number of times she'd gone to complain about politics interfering with their cases alone—

Sighing, she glanced down at the shirt, smiling in spite of herself. It really wasn't too bad. Yes, it was quite baggy in the shoulders and she'd missed a button or two in her haste to be on time, but it wasn't plastered to her thanks to a runaway snack _and _the color looked nice against her skin.

Not that she'd really had a choice. It was his shirt or a kevlar vest, which, while they could be oddly flattering, didn't really present a professional image to the boss. It wasn't really surprising that Jane had had an extra shirt (probably more than one, if she really thought about it) stashed away somewhere; he'd been doing so for so long it was probably second nature. Luckily though, the days—nights—of him camped in the attic, unwilling to allow himself any comfort, were long gone.

Her smile grew and the door dinged, sliding open to reveal an almost empty floor. The meeting must've run later than she thought. Glancing at her watch, she headed towards her office, unsurprised to find her team huddled around a table, the remnants of take out scattered between them as they continued to prep for the trial scheduled to start the next morning.

"Boss, again, I'm sorry about—"

"Enough, it's fine. Now what's going on that all of you look like you've just been hit by a truck?"

"Last minute add from the defense." Cho handed her a thick file, his mouth turning down slightly. "Expert brought in to try to contradict us."

"Expert in what?" She shrugged out of her jacket, rolling up the sleeves of Jane's shirt as she flipped the folder open.

"It's probably better if you just read it, boss... sort of... hard to explain..." Van Pelt's voice faded away as Lisbon started to read, her jaw dropping as she realized this so called expert wasn't being brought in to go after them necessarily, but the poor young girl who'd lost her life.

Who was defenseless and voiceless and...

It made her sick.

She inhaled sharply, her irritation increasing as she read the transcript from the last case he'd testified in. The theatrics of it actually were reminiscent of Jane, but they held none of his truth, his warmth.

Speaking of Jane...

He was being quiet.

Too quiet.

Usually he'd have asked fifteen questions by now, arrogantly outlined just how their boss had pissed her off this time.

He hadn't so much as made eye contact with her since she got back.

Tearing herself away from the headache of the next day, she glanced up at him, a wave of heat skittering down her spine as she realized he was practically staring at her, his eyes dark, breathing uneven.

She was driving him crazy.

Her slightly disheveled hair, the fire in her eyes as she reviewed the information Cho had just handed her, and his shirt...

He gulped, hands flexing against the edge of the table as he stood. "You know, Lisbon, the sink in the break room is clogged and maintenance needs you to sign some form before they can fix it." He turned, eyes closing for a moment before he started down the hall. "You should come sign it now before you forget."

"Oh, I'm going to forget?" The words tumbled out the minute they were alone together. It was part growl, part amused teasing and she bit down on the inside of her cheek as she noticed the way his shoulders tensed in response."You're the one that misplaced the apartment keys twice in the last three days."

"Now, now, surely you know that first time was merely a clever ruse to allow us to stay in bed longer."

"Still, that and forgetting about my trip next mont—"

"That's just self preservation; I abhor the thought of spending a week without you, no offense to Cho."

Laughing, she shook her head. "Fair enough. Though maybe it's not a bad idea to start taking some gingko biloba; it's supposed to do wonders for older minds and a teaspoon in your tea wouldn—"

He gasped in horror, stumbling a moment before continuing his quest towards their destination. "What did you just say, woman? That's... it's... an affront to tea! And really, who are you to talk?" He raised an eyebrow at her as the door to the break room slipped shut behind them. "You're not that much younger than me, you just use sticky notes to..."

His words died as she stalked past him, ripping the work order sheet from the fridge and scrawling her signature across the bottom before turning to face him once more, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright, as she tipped her head towards him.

His gaze drifted hotly over her and he took a small step forward, grinning at the annoyance and amusement, challenge and love, written all over her face.

"You're something, you know it? Inventing an excuse to get me alone just because you lack the impulse control that—"

"I didn't invent it; i merely utilized it to my advantage." He closed what little distance was between them, pining her to the counter. "Besides, you wouldn't have it any other way."

"That's..." She closed her eyes, slowly rocking her hips against his.

God help her, she really wouldn't.

"Exactly."

His mouth covered hers, hands tangling in her hair as he kissed her hungrily. She gasped beneath him, her fingers pressing into his sides, urging him even closer. Grunting, he pulled away for a moment, their foreheads pressing together as his arms tightened around her.

"Do you know how... sexy..." His trailed kisses down her throat, across her collarbone "...that shirt..."

"Mmm, I have an... oh..." Moaning, she arched her back, hands clutching at his shoulders as he rocked against her and pressed his lips to hers once more. Her tongue stroked over his, echoing the slow, torturous rhythm his body was setting against hers, as her knee nudged between his and—

"Hey, boss, Jane?" Van Pelt's voice floated in from the other room and the froze, Jane's head falling against her shoulder as he attempted to catch his breath. "We're good to go for tonight; we'll see you at the courthouse tomorrow."

"Sounds..." She tipped her head back, staring at the ceiling and praying Grace couldn't hear the slight change in the timbre of her voice. "Good."

"Alright, night."

There was silence for a good thirty second and then...

"Mmm, let's go. I need to get you out—" He groaned, teeth nipping along her jaw as he tugged his shirt free from her pants. "Know you look as good out of this... as... in..."

"Only 'as good'?" The corner of her mouth turned up in a half smile as she leaned against him, guiding them towards the door.

"Ok." He laughed, his hand landing low on her hip. "Better. Much, much better."


End file.
